Playing To The Gallery
by Sparkling By Moonlight
Summary: A latenight visit to the office proves instructive for Kate.


A/N: I'm still on the first season, and from the joy of NCIS season 1 came this little guy.

Disclaimer: Not mine, obviously. As much as I'd like to hang on to them, they belong to DPB and company. No profit, yada, yada.

Playing To The Gallery

I press the button for the elevator, and wait impatiently. I glare at my watch. _Half past eleven. _Not really the time to be at NCIS collecting my sweater, really, but I didn't remember till I was on the way home, and I wouldn't have bothered, except that Tony _scourge-of-the-earth _had squirted ink on it today, and after the way I reacted, it would probably look a little silly if I just left it at work instead of getting it drycleaned at the earliest possible opportunity… the elevator dings and the doors slide open, and I sweep in quickly, punching the button for the floor.

Hopefully the night shift will be out, and not sitting in the squad room wondering what one of the regulars is doing at the office at almost midnight. I glare at my watch again. If it weren't for Tony I could have been at home and curled up in bed by now. I scowl as I try to visualise Tony, lounging at his apartment, _in front of the TV obviously _watching the movie of the night, or even worse, sound asleep _he probably sleeps like a kid, spread out over the whole bed _and not at _work _in the middle of the night.

The doors hiss open and I quickly wipe the scowl off my face, in case the night shift is here after all, and step out of the elevator. _Okay, get the sweater and out, only one light on _and I huff, because the light is on at the desk across from mine, and that really can't be adequate lighting to work in , can it? And then I see whose desk it is, and not that I needed to, because I know that profile, and what on _earth is Tony doing here at almost midnight? _

Working, from the looks of it. He glances alternately between his computer screen and something that from this distance I can't see. It looks like a printout, and I wonder if he's got the financial records that we were looking for earlier today, at half past six when Gibbs told us to go home because there was nothing else we could do till tomorrow.

And the odd thing is that Tony's usually so restless when he's working, _can't sit still for a minute, always needs to throw paper missiles at someone-who-is-me-sitting-across-from-him. _Well, evidently he can, because the only movement is the jabbing of his hands at the keyboard _obviously he's made some effort to learn to type _and the slight tilt of his head as he tries to read the printout and the screen at the same time. There'e none of the usual half-smile lurking about his face. It's tight and focussed and I don't think he'd notice twenty other agents in the room, never mind the solitary one by the elevator.

And what is he doing here at – I check my watch – midnight anyway? He spends his days goofing off as much as Gibbs will let him get away with it _which isn't much but still _and he's here, working on his own at night by… _choice_?

Suddenly a lot of things make sense like they never have, and I know why Gibbs lets Tony get away with goofing off without much more than a smack upside the head, and how Tony always seems to have _something _on the case, and how… how he knew the night security guys by name when we were here late once. _This isn't a one-off thing _and somehow something inside feels a little better, _he's not a slacker after all _and I smile and turn around, make for the stairs instead of the elevator _he'd hear the doors opening _and go back downstairs to my car. The ribbing I'm sure to get tomorrow about my sweater will be worth it, because I _know_ when he's breezing about how well his evening went, and it doesn't matter, because now I can accuse him of being lazy and _not _mean it.

As I turn the key in the ignition downstairs I am still thinking about why, and maybe--maybe _Gibbs was right and Tony knows it. _

Maybe Tony really does work best without an audience.


End file.
